


Where You Belong

by Ael_tRlailiiu



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 11:43:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8488033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ael_tRlailiiu/pseuds/Ael_tRlailiiu
Summary: Big changes are made up of little ones. G-rated CS fluff and feels around Killian moving in with Emma around S6E04.





	

Long after the dust of the day had settled, after the bodies had been taken away and the deck cleaned, after Belle had been resettled at Granny’s for the night -- after all of that had been dealt with and darkness had fallen, Killian heaved the chest onto his shoulder and climbed the stairs.

Emma opened the front door. Light spilled out onto the porch, along with faint music and the smell of food.

“My parents left a casserole,” Emma said. “Several, in fact. Also a lot of fruit. I get the feeling that my dad is terrified we’re going to starve now that they’re an entire half mile away.

“Perhaps he misses his days provisioning an army. Where shall I drop this?” He shifted the chest.

“Wherever you want.” She flashed a smile at him, almost shy. “Henry, could you set the table?”

“Sure, mom. Only I don’t know where you’ve put anything.”

Killian set the chest down near the couch while Emma showed Henry which drawers to check for silver. He had carried that chest onto the Jewel of the Realm several lifetimes ago, his lieutenant’s insignia bright, the chest all but empty. There wasn’t much in it even now: clothes, Liam’s sextant, a few books, trifles picked up in ports whose names he had all but forgotten. He put the books on a shelf next to Emma’s and smiled at the eclectic company they formed.  

“I think we’re all set.” Emma poked her head out of the kitchen, then came to join Killian. “Take your coat off, stay a while.”

He hung it in the closet next to Emma’s brown one. “That better?”

“Much.” She kissed him, soft and lingering, and laughed against his mouth when he leaned into her. Her hand found its way into his hair, and he matched her, both lost for one too-brief hungering moment. “Okay, we should have done this ages ago. After supper, what do you say we go up and un...pack?”

“A brilliant plan.” If not for Henry, he would have suggested changing the order, but the boy’s presence must surely be a consideration.

“Thought you’d like it.” She looped her arm through his and tugged. “I’m hungry. This was a longer day than I think any of us were hoping for.”

“Aye, it was.”

“How’s Belle doing?”

“Angry as one might expect.” He had kept a wary eye on her conversation with the Crocodile, but at a polite distance. Belle’s thunderous expression had spoken volumes. “Granny assures me that her crossbow is prepared for any unwelcome visitors.”

“Let’s hope he gets the memo this time.”

They settled at the table. Killian hesitated, then picked the spot next to Henry, across from Emma. There had been innumerable meals just like this one at the loft, at Granny’s, or during an afternoon at sea, and often enough it had been just the three of them. Still, this felt different. He soon concluded that part of it was the newness; there were open shelves in the cabinetry, a running list kept of things to purchase. Everything felt unmarked, and by that demanded gentle handling.

The conversation went in fits and starts. They avoided Hyde and what had been learned through the manner of his death, and instead spoke of the Land of Untold Stories.

“Who do you suppose is still there?” Henry asked. “You said the place was pretty large.”

“More so than any city I’ve seen outside this world.”

“So I wonder if it’s not just people like the Count or Cinderella’s family, but maybe… like, have you ever looked at the library?”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Pretty much every day, kid, on my way to work.”

“I meant the inside. You know how big the fiction section is? And Storybrooke’s library is pretty small. But there’s tons of books in there that nobody’s heard of really, stuff that people used to read but nobody cares now.”

“Given what your world’s writers do to stories, in my experience, perhaps they’re better off.”

“Yeah, I’m still working on that -- why our versions are so different. But it might be hard to figure out what some of the people who came here might be after.”

“Sounds like a job for our crack internet research team,” Emma said. “But first, dishes.”

“Love to. I gotta go finish my homework.” Henry pulled a rueful face. “Life as normal, right? Means school tomorrow.”

“No texting Violet until you’re done.”

“She’s helping me with geometry!”

“Sure, she is.” Emma grinned at him. “Go on, then. We can handle this.”

The ritual of cleaning up smoothed over any potential awkward moments, necessitating as it did a dozen minor conversations about how to organize the room.

“You look happy,” Killian ventured at last, watching her.

“I am.” Emma smiled and set the last plate in the rack to dry. “All this time we spent fighting to get here -- I want to enjoy every minute. My folks have a point, right? All the rest of it, this is what it’s for. You want to make some coffee? Mugs should go here or here, do you think?”

“It--” doesn’t matter, Killian almost said, and stopped, and thought about the morning to come, and the mornings after that one, and how all of these minor decisions would come together over time. He moved to her side and put the mug on the shelf. “We can try them up there. And I would love some coffee. One of the finest joys you’ve yet introduced me to.”

Emma smirked. “I like to think there’s a couple things higher on that list, but coffee will do for now. We were interrupted the other day, after all.”

He made coffee. The comfortable quiet that fell was not new, and its echoes made a bridge between past and present. The house fell into near-silence, the only sounds a faint electronic susurration from Henry’s room and the purr of a car passing down the street. It occurred to him that they had neighbors, that every connection implied a dozen more.

Perhaps it was best to take things one moment at a time, this business of them having things. He felt more contentment than he had once dreamed of just to sit in this room with her, and an abiding gratitude for all the chances and yes, the miracles that allowed the world to be so. A promise given in the brilliant haze of a Camelot afternoon lay behind, a future wide and mysterious as the sea ahead.

“I suppose those things won’t unpack themselves,” Killian said at last. He rinsed out his coffee mug and turned to lean against the counter’s edge.

“Barring frivolous use of magic, no.” They went upstairs. “Lights out in ten,” Emma called through Henry’s door as they passed.

“Got it, mom.”

“Is he all right with this, do you suppose?” Killian asked once the bedroom door had closed behind them.

“With you being here?” Emma sounded surprised. “Yeah, why not?”

“He beat something of a hasty retreat earlier this evening.”

“He’s a kid. He wants to hang out with his friends and do his own things. This is a big change,” she admitted. “And he’s gotten shuttled around a lot these past couple years, between Regina’s place, the loft, New York… he’ll adjust.” Emma stretched out on the bed and watched Killian hang shirts in the closet. After a while, she said, “Is this too weird, though? Being here, after everything? Maybe we should have gone with a different house.”

Such a useful word, everything. The room did not look the same as it had in the Underworld; none of them did, but still there was that echo, that unwanted familiarity. It mattered nothing next to the present reality of Emma and her flowered shirt, her comfortable sprawl and her thoughtful frown looking up at him.

“The reasons for choosing it haven’t changed. And the history is just that, the past.” He found a smile for her. “If we’re to move house every time something out of the ordinary happens, that would be quite the nomad’s life.” He held his breath, just a little, on account of that we.

“...And the whole point of this is to stop doing that, yeah, I get it. Just you look a little… far away sometimes tonight.”

“I suppose I have been.” He paused, considering the rows of hangars, empty shelves, whole rooms waiting to be filled, not with things but with memories. “Thinking about Liam. I don’t remember much of the house we used to live in, just that it was small. I suppose he must have… have had more memories of it, but we never spoke about it.”

“I know you miss him.”

“He’s happy now. And years would not have been enough time.”

“That doesn’t make it easy.”

“No. But I don’t regret my choice, if that’s what you’re wondering. Not even for a moment. As you said, your parents are right.” He finished his task, closed the trunk, and leaned on the closet door frame with assumed nonchalance. “And now that that’s done?”

Emma smirked. “Now? I’d say we’re both finally home. And we have a brand-new mattress here. I think you’re gonna like it.”


End file.
